


The best medicine of all

by OnlyZouzou



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bellamy is a cop, Clarke is his doctor, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23281402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyZouzou/pseuds/OnlyZouzou
Summary: Cop!Bellamy meets Doctor!Clarke. He's careless, she's afraid to lose someone she loves one more time...
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 83





	The best medicine of all

The day Clarke first met Bellamy, he had a broken arm, an open eyebrow arch, scratches all over his face and a hint of head trauma.

It is not surprising when you climb halfway up a 150-year-old oak tree to take a crying little girl out of it, then to the top of that same tree to get the stuck kite from that same little girl. No matter how tall, athletic and reckless you may be, nothing can save you from falling when your foot slips on its grip and the branch you are catching up on cracks under your weight.

Remaining still during the exams, then quiet while waiting for the results, then resigned when Clarke says she wants to keep him under observation at night, seems to be a real hardship for Bellamy.

When neither his ravishing smile, nor his battered dog's look, nor his sharp humor manages to get him out of the situation, anger takes over.

And if in another life, Clarke could have been sensitive to that warm smile, that deep look, and that particular humor, the young woman is certainly not the type to be intimidated.

**"If you want to avoid hospital visits, you just need to be more careful."**

*******

Bellamy apparently doesn't listen to her advice, since Clarke has the opportunity to see him for the second time a month later. A bullet scratch leads him straight back to the emergency room. It is on this occasion that the doctor discovers that not only is Bellamy Blake tall, athletic and reckless, and possesses (and knows how to use) a charming smile, a sure charisma and sharp intelligence, but he also happens to be a police officer.

And if Clarke can't help but notice how well his uniform suits him, it's simply because science has given her eyes. Might as well use them wisely.

**"I guess I'll see you soon enough, Princess."**

Clarke doesn't have time to think of anything smart to make him swallow his satisfied little smile and presumptuous nickname. Bellamy walks through the emergency room with his wounded arm in a sling (even if the young doctor guesses that the splint won't stay in place for long). She knows that he's unfortunately right and that she'll meet him again (too) soon enough.

And if she is surprised to feel more excitement than annoyance at this thought, she blames it on her thirty-six consecutive hours of shift and the lack of sleep that goes with it. It's not like she can control her emotions in this state.

*******

The third time Clarke meets Bellamy, it's her turn to call him _(well, to call the police, not Bellamy himself, why would she have his number anyway?)._

That evening, no trace of the charming smile, the tender look, or the sharp humor... only a strong seriousness, a rigid posture and an unfailing calm to guide his sense of duty when he and Miller, his co-partner, come to take care of the very young Charlotte, victim of domestic violence and seriously injured.

Clarke leads them to her room while explaining the file and then watches with a suspicious eye as the officer questions the girl, ready to step in if she's feeling that Bellamy is pushing the fragile victim too far into her trenches. However, it quickly turns out that Clarke doesn't need to do anything. She can only look and notice (while refraining from admiring) the sweetness of Bellamy's words, a sweetness that she wouldn't have suspected, the way his voice, usually strong and deep, softens and quiets when he talks to Charlotte, and the unique way the emotion he holds (and which echoes perfectly the chaos Clarke herself feels) makes his brown eyes glow.

When Clarke gently closes the door of the bedroom to let Charlotte sleep, she's still shaken by the confessions she just heard. She can't imagine discovering yet another side of the policeman. But here it is, the young man's hand rests on her arm and the warmth he radiates, the comfort he offers her, surprises her so much that she no longer remembers the words he says to her at that moment. 

And if Bellamy's kindness continues to haunt her and reassure her even long after she's gone home, that doesn't mean anything, does it?

*******

Afterward, Clarke keeps on meeting Bellamy, even if it's only in light and discreet touches at first.  
  
It's the smile she gives him from afar as she happens to run into him while patrolling the street.  
  
It's the few words they exchange at the store where they both run their errands.  
  
It's this walk finally shared along the seaside when Clarke's roommate's dog chooses to chase the first runner who comes along and who turns out to be the man who is haunting her thoughts without her being aware of it.  
  
It's this latte offered in her favorite Coffee Shop when she recognizes him before her in the waiting line and he spills his entire order by turning around too quickly when she calls his name.  
  
Eventually, Clarke stops tracking the number of times her path crosses with Bellamy's. If she had faith in a higher power, she could almost believe that fate was trying to bring them together. The moments get tangled and mixed up until finally, these two paths only draw one single road on which they are walking together, without knowing if their destination will be the same, without even asking themselves the question.  
  
And if they are both hoping to keep doing the furthest distance side by side, what's the big deal about that?

*******

But that's precisely what scares Clarke the most: what if one day, their paths don't intertwine anymore? What if, one day, she no longer meets him in the street, at the store, at the coffee shop or by the sea? What if one day she stops seeing that smile? If she no longer crosses those eyes, she no longer hears the laughter she is so proud to cause?  
  
What if, one day, she loses him like she lost so many loved ones in the past?  
  
And if the young man keeps on paying such regular visits to the ER, sometimes as a police officer, sometimes as an injured person himself, Clarke fears that this is exactly what will happen.  
  
Each time Clarke wipes up the blood, straightens the bones, stitches the skin, it's like she's the wounded one. Seeing him so hurt and in so much suffering becomes harder and harder. Each new encounter, each new minute, each new moment spent with him where she allows their lives to merge more, clouds her judgment a little more, puts her feelings above her logic, what the heart shouts over what the head tells her to do.

So when one of her interns comes to get her one night and tells her that a patient is asking for her directly, Clarke knows exactly what to expect. This isn't the first time this is happening, and it won't be the last.  
  
She doesn't take the time to calm the beating of her panicking heart nor the time to take a deep breath to stop shaking. She grabs her gown, puts it on as she runs down the stairs, and looks for him as soon as she's entering the large and immaculate room.  
  
Clarke no longer counts the times she had to treat Bellamy anymore. Nine months have now passed since their first meeting, nine months during which they both got to know each other. Each took an important space in the other's life, one that seemed to be made for them alone.  
  
However, as her bright eyes are finding Bellamy's crushed and bloody face, the doctor is sure of one thing: never before today has she seen the young man in worse shape than this.  
  
He's not in uniform, which is confusing her, because it means he didn't get his injuries while on duty. Questions are spinning and turning in her mind, drowned by a concern that is overwhelming her with its intensity. And while an unprecedented tension grasps her, the same tension seems to immediately leave Bellamy, whose rigid stature and icy facade are suddenly crumbling in Clarke's closeness. His shoulders sink and exhaustion appears on his face and in his demeanor, so much that she thinks for a second that he's going to collapse here and now.

In an instinctive move, she grabs his hand, ignoring the burning that stings her, and leads him into a small room hidden from view. There, without saying a word, she stops herself from coming to wipe the tears that flow freely from the swollen and bluish eyelids of the young man, tracing in the still-wet blood strikes on his cheeks. No, Clarke doesn't say a word. She is just there, a reassuring presence at Bellamy's side.  
  
Gently, she wipes the blood off his face, wondering if it's only his before remembering that the man in front of her, whom she now knows by heart, is unable to hurt anyone.  
  
Tenderly, she disinfects the wounds, jolting when the tingling of the product makes him gasp with pain. _God, how she'd like to erase all the hurt displayed on his features._  
  
Delicately, she stitches the skin where the hits opened the flesh. She brushes his cheekbone right under those brown eyes that usually know how to read her so well and are staring at her.  
She is so afraid to meet his gaze and thus reveal her thoughts too much. She runs her fingers through the dark curls that are falling on his forehead before taking care of the deep cut that is running across his eyebrow.  
  
When he tries to take off his shirt at her request, but stops with his arms raised, paralyzed by pain, she grabs a scissor and frees him herself from his cloth prison.  
  
The garment falls and reveals the bruises that color the skin here and there. No need to be a doctor to assume that the young man is suffering from the consequences of a particularly violent beat-up.  
  
Lovingly, Clarke slips her fingers over the skin, grazes the marks and bruises, palpates and touches, looking for more extensive damage and finding it. She bites her lip to stop crying when she feels one, two, three cracked, maybe broken ribs. She orders a radio and lets Bellamy slip away to get it.  
  
Only then, when she closes the door behind her and stands still and silent behind the glass that separates their two spaces, does she realize...  
  
 _She's in love with Bellamy._

The X-ray stops and draws her attention elsewhere. Fortunately, there is nothing serious to report and she quickly returns to the young man to inform him, then gives him one of the hospital's long-sleeved gowns so he can get dressed again, helping him even during the painful process. Clarke is good at ignoring the feelings that are scaring her.  
  
Finally, when they are finished and he is standing there, right in front of her, wounded and broken, inside and out, she whispers:  
  
 **"You know I have to ask, Bellamy... What happened?"**  
  
The distress and sadness that is shining in the young man's brown eyes at this very moment are breaking her already weakened heart.  
  
 **"Is it Dr. Griffin, or just Clarke who is asking?"** he then asks, his voice broken by emotion.  
  
And if there's one question Clarke is powerless to answer at this very moment, in the light of her latest revelation, it's this one.  
  
Her work has always represented her whole life, but when she looks into Bellamy's dark eyes, she's no longer sure that's all that matters anymore.  
  
Facing her silence, both meaningful and full of unspoken words, Bellamy sighs and is about to leave the room when Clarke's shaky hand holds him back and pulls him against her. The young woman's arms tie around his neck as she becomes delicate and light against him, to avoid further harm, but safe and comforting, to express her presence and wrap him in her warmth.  
  
Bellamy first stiffens, but only takes a few seconds to get out of his immobility, to relax, and finally to wrap his own hands around Clarke's waist. His nose comes tickling the hollow of her neck and she feels the tears of the young man starting to soak the collar of her blouse.  
  
 **"Clarke-"**  
  
Her name is muffled by tears and cloth but filled with an overwhelming feeling, a deep and visceral need, which takes its roots in the heart of the soul. A need that Clarke is also feeling, without being able to explain it. So she's just holding him tighter.  
  
 **"You know you can talk to me about anything,"** she whispers in his chest. **"I'm here, Bellamy. I'm not going anywhere."**

*******

  
It is only a few days later that Clarke learns more about Bellamy and his chaotic childhood. About the sister whom he had made the center of his world before it blew up in his face a few months earlier. About his passions and dreams. About his nightmares and regrets. In return, Clarke also confides, on this father who she misses every day and this absent mother, on the time that flies between her fingers and the friends that she lost.  
  
And if her heart is beating faster every time the young man's hand touches hers, if her cheeks turn red when he lets a compliment slip, if she can't take her eyes off his perfect profile and the freckles that are scattered on his olive-skin when his attention is caught by their TV evenings, so be it, she only gets more and more talented at pretending nothing is affecting her.  
  
However, if there is one aspect where Clarke cannot pretend, it's at work. A few weeks later, familiar voices resonate and make her look up from her files. Worry is already surrounding her heart with its cold, sharp claws when she recognizes Miller's voice, which seems annoyed, and lower, the one of his partner Officer Blake, whose words she can't discern. When the sight of blood flowing from Bellamy's arm to the fingertips of his right hand and soaking his shirt paralyzes her with fear, she knows what she has to do.

She immediately beeps her colleague and friend, Eric, and asks him to take charge of the young man. She remains by their side, however, throughout the fourteen very long stitches that the doctor makes on Bellamy's forearm. She tries to make conversation with a suddenly very distracted Miller and ignores with all the strength of her will the look of Bellamy on her. She knows what questions she will find in his dark eyes.  
  
Miller and Jackson leave them in the small room pretending to have papers to fill out and Bellamy speaks out to break the heavy silence between the two of them.  
  
 **"Some paperwork to do, huh? Is that the new code for " _make heart eyes at each other and exchange phone numbers_ "?"**  
  
Clarke smiles, but her blue eyes are distant and shy. Cold. Bellamy suddenly shivers. A new panic hits him and he can't explain the reason for it. Even when he was running at full speed after the criminal in the city streets, even when he had to climb the unstable fence that had caused his cut, even when he had tackled the thief on the ground before handcuffing him, Bellamy had never felt any fear. Until he met Clarke's wavering gaze.  
  
 **"Clarke, it's nothing,"** he feels the necessity to say. **"Just a superficial cut. Nathan didn't even need to take me here-"**  
  
 **"Fourteen stitches, Bellamy. Fourteen,"** Clarke interrupts.  
  
 **" Well, I'm fine. Everything is fine."**  
  
To which the young woman responds, relentless and resolute:  
  
 **"I don't want to be your doctor anymore, Bellamy. I'll warn the staff not to call me again when you come to our service. Dr. Jackson will take care of you from now on."**  
  
Astonishment crosses the cop's face... along with what Clarke thinks is hurt, perhaps? She has no time to guess more than that, as Bellamy takes back control of his expressions and asks:  
  
 **"Did I do something wrong?"**  
  
 **"No-No, it's not that."**  
  
 **"Then- why?"**  
  
Clarke is searching for her words, those that will save her from the truth and will not end up in a declaration like:  
  
 **"I can no longer be your doctor because every time I'm called in to be told that you're here, that you're hurt, I can't breathe, I can't think, let alone practice medicine. I can no longer be your doctor because I'm in love with you and these feelings are clouding my judgment."**  
  
She's saving that kind of speech for later. One day, she'll tell him. One day, in a near future (she hopes), a future where he will no longer foolishly risk his life on every street corner, a future where she will also have faced the childhood fears that are trying to convince her that everyone she loves will eventually abandon her in some way or another. One day, soon.  
  
But not now.  
  
 **"I can't- It just doesn't work anymore."**

Bellamy would have to settle for this half-truth until she was ready to reveal more. **  
**

And if in the days following this exchange, Bellamy is under the impression that something broke between them, or more precisely that an invisible and impenetrable wall was built between him and Clarke, perhaps he needs to ask himself what drives him to always try to break its foundations anyway. Perhaps he needs to ask himself what sustains his need to be close to her and what leaves his thirst for her unquenchable every time.

*******

  
  
Between them, nothing changes, but everything is different as well. Every moment is more intense, more true, rawer. Each of Bellamy's smiles, his words, his laughter, fill Clarke with conflicting feelings. The happiness of being at his side, mixed with what she really feels for him and which overwhelms her with doubts. These new feelings seem to crystallize every minute, but at the same time paralyze it out of fear of losing him for good, in one way or another.  
  
Unfortunately, it soon becomes very obvious to Bellamy that he can't settle for half-truths, and just because his predictable reaction doesn't surprise Clarke doesn't mean it doesn't annoy her.  
  
As the days go by, he keeps nagging her, always asking her the same questions, the ones she can't answer, as if he knew exactly what he was doing and what would follow. As if he wanted to trigger her reactions while giving the impression of knowing exactly what to expect.  
  
One evening, while they are meeting for one of their TV evenings, he crosses the line. Clarke can't even remember the exact words, all she remembers is the whirlwind of emotions that suddenly overwhelms her and the way she pushes Bellamy away wildly.   
  
The ensuing argument seems to last for hours and hurts them both deeply, so much so that each decides not to give any more news to the other, nor to cross their path.  
  
A ridiculous game of hide and seek begins. No more extended phone conversations, shared meal breaks or nights on the couch, long after Netflix figured out that no one was watching the television anymore.  
  
Clarke avoids the supermarket. Bellamy stays away from the ER. Clarke walks her dog early in the morning. Bellamy runs late at night. Miller tries to find out what happened with Bellamy but collides with an unbreakable wall of coldness. Jackson no longer dares to tell Clarke when the police officers come through the emergency door since the young woman made it clear to him that it was no longer her concern.  
  
A ridiculous game, for sure. Bellamy and Clarke are already both the losers. One is missing the other, but everyone is too proud and stubborn to take the step that will reconcile them.  
  
A week goes by, then two, then three. Soon, a month has gone by and if the insults thrown at one's face have faded, the lack and emptiness left by the other have only intensified, until it becomes unbearable, until one day...  
  
 **"Sir... Atlas?"**

Clarke's voice stumbles on the unusual and yet so familiar name. She should have expected Bellamy to get up as soon as her eyes read the pseudonym on the sheet.  
  
A memory resonates. A few weeks earlier, on the roof of his building, their two bodies wrapped in blankets to overcome the cold, the mythology enthusiast had told her the famous myth. Clarke had allowed herself to be lulled by Bellamy's deep voice, her eyes fixed on the celestial sky above them. She couldn't have helped but found, in Atlas' story, a little (too) about Bellamy.  
  
 **"You don't have to carry all the weight of the world on your shoulders anymore, you know?"** she whispered to him. **"I already told you, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere."**  
  
The noise of the young man's chair scraping on the floor of the waiting room brings her back to the present. When Bellamy's low-pitched tone answers "Yes" and he stands up to follow her inside her practice, she is flooded with surprise. She briefly examines his face and surprise turns into relief, then quickly into worry when she notices the dark circles under his weary brown eyes, and the almost defensive and wounded way in which he is holding himself.  
  
Once the door of her office is closed behind them, she crosses her arms, to better protect herself or to prevent herself from showing too much, she doesn't even know and asks:  
  
 **"What are you doing here, Bellamy?"**  
  
 **"I need a consultation."**  
  
She takes a few seconds to really look at him. He doesn't just look tired, but exhausted. Closer up, she can better see his eyes reddened by a clear lack of sleep. The skin of his cheeks is almost hidden by a beard of a few days and his already untamable dark curls now point in all directions, as a result of the too many times his trembling fingers wiggle through his hair.  
  
What's the point of denying now how much she missed the young man? Suddenly, the arguments and reasons for their fight to lose their relevance, and part of Clarke would like this story to be in the past. However, it's the stubborn and resentful part of her that wins and here she says:  
  
 **"I already told you, I can no longer be your doctor."**  
  
 **"You said you didn't want to be my doctor anymore."**  
  
 **"It doesn't change anything. If you need to see a professional, I can call Dr..."**  
  
 **"Clarke, _please_..."**  
  
His voice breaks on the last word. The young woman takes a few seconds to consider before agreeing, while nevertheless warning him:  
  
 **"This is the last time, Bellamy."**

He nods and follows her to the examination table where he sits.

**"So, what brings you here?"**

He clears his throat and explains:

**"Lately, I haven't felt like myself."**

She raises an eyebrow.

**"What do you mean?"**

**"I have trouble getting out of bed, trouble getting to work, I'm exhausted all the time..."**

No way Clarke couldn't _not_ worry while listening to these words. It's impossible not to think that if she had been in his life for the past few days as she was the weeks before, she could have been there for him sooner, she could have helped him, she could have made a difference. She bites her lower lip and turns to grab the blood pressure device behind her. She asks him to lift the sleeve of his shirt and fixes the strap around his arm.

**"Your blood pressure is correct. Are you getting enough sleep?"**

This time, he's wincing as he answers:

**"Not exactly. I have trouble sleeping, and when I finally fall asleep, I often wake up with a start and... I-I have nightmares too..."**

Clarke's heart is tightening in her chest. She feels the piercing look of the young man on her face but doesn't feel able to meet his brown eyes, tries to avoid his gaze by asking a new question:

**"Bellamy... For how long has it been going on?"**

**"I don't want you to worry about me, Clarke."**

Anger overwhelms her with that last sentence and she can't hold back her next words.

**"If you didn't want me to worry about you, you shouldn't..."**

She doesn't end her phrase. Not because she is lacking something to say, but because too many unspoken things are jostling in her mind at this very moment.

But like the last time they were in this hospital together and Clarke had told him that she no longer wanted to be his doctor, the young man was not satisfied with that. A half-truth was not enough for him then, a half-finished sentence is not enough for him now either, and Clarke curses his perseverance and the stubborn way he's always chasing the truth.

**"I shouldn't have done what, Clarke?"** he replies then, waiting for the next step.

_You shouldn't have come here._

_You shouldn't have made me care about you._

_You shouldn't have let me love you._

She turns her head, sighs, weary and suddenly tired, too. Tired of fighting herself by fighting him, tired of her restless nights, tired of the thoughts that keep her awake. She is about to turn around to go behind his desk when he grabs her wrist and whispers as he pulls her back close to him:

**"Please, Clarke."**

He looks into her blue eyes and seems to find the courage he was lacking before admitting:

**"I miss you."**

How can a heart break and at the same time start pounding? Clarke is a doctor, she should know the answer to that question. She should have better control over the signals her brain is sending to her body. But here she is, her eyes burning with tears barely held back by this truth that the young man speaks so easily that she is almost jealous; this truth that she also feels so strongly without yet fully understanding it.

How could she have let Bellamy enter her life so easily?

How could she have let him take such an important part in it?

How did he succeed in breaking down her fences without her realizing it?

How did he manage to sneak into her routine as if he had always been there?

And in her heart as if he had always existed in it?

**"Bellamy..."**

She stops. She knows how to sense a danger when she is close to it. What she wishes to say is too risky. Not after her father. Not after Wells. Finn. Lexa. Not after all those she lost and all the others who had drifted away from her when grief and suffering had made her unrecognizable. Her heart can't resist another crack. A new shard and it would break forever. Clarke wouldn't survive it.

**"I can't-"**

She slips her wrist out of his grip, but Bellamy keeps her gaze trapped in his own when he adds, with a low, shaky, hesitant voice:

**"Clarke, I need you."**

The young woman opens her mouth to protest. She doesn't like the idea of him being dependent on her as much as she knows she is, doesn't like the idea that he thinks she's necessary just like she knows he's essential to her existence, but he doesn't give her time to add anything else.

**"It's true, Clarke. I came to see you today because... I can't stand this distance, and this silence anymore. I feel miserable without you in my life. All my landmarks have faded and... I-I don't know how you did it, Clarke, but I don't know how I spent my days before you came into my life and turned everything upside down."**

Bellamy speaks quickly, his words are confused, but the message is delivered, loud and clear. So much so that Clarke remains silent, unable to find the right words, torn between the desire to curl up in the embrace of his arms, and the need to flee as far as possible.

Softly, he brushes her fingers with his own and looks in the sapphire of her gaze to find the permission to touch her again. When she doesn't back away from him, he ties the fingers of her left hand to his own and pulls her closer to him.

**"Say something, Clarke, please."**

The young woman clears her throat before answering the first thing that comes to her mind, her professional and down-to-earth side is taking over to protect her from the emotions that are threatening to swallow her up.

**"If you're not really sick, I can't-"**

Bellamy sighs, exasperated, and interrupts her right away.

**"But I'm sick, Clarke. If not, explain to me why my heart beats so fast when I'm close to you. Why my breath sometimes stops when I'm looking at you. Why I'm getting so clumsy around you. Why I'm losing my words and becoming completely silly and incoherent. Why I smile foolishly all by myself when l think about us or when I see your name on the screen of my phone. Tell me, Clarke. You're the doctor, so what's happening to me?"**

And suddenly, it's Clarke's heart that is speeding up, her own breathing that is becoming difficult, her words that are slipping away with all the answers she could give.

**"I'll tell you what's happening to me,"** Bellamy continues. **"I think I fell for you, Clarke. I got you under my skin. I'm in love with you."**

That's it, today is the day Clarke finally succumbs to a heart attack. Only Bellamy's burning eyes in her own are keeping her afloat now. Thousands of thoughts are bursting into her mind at this moment. Some are shouting at her to keep her distance, others are whispering that she needs to get closer and closer and let Bellamy consume her entirely.

When she finds her voice again, she can only say one thing. A truth that terrifies her.

**"You're too reckless. One day, you'll get yourself killed and I won't survive it."**

The young man swallows as he registers Clarke's words. It's not a "no", it's not a "never", it's not an "I never want to see you again", it's a "maybe", a "why not", a "convince me" and Bellamy jumps at the opportunity.

His fingers bind more to Clarke's palm as he brings the young woman's fresh hand to his cheek. When she feels Bellamy's skin under her fingers, she finally seems to come back to reality. Her blue eyes are shining, no longer from the fears she doesn't dare to face, but from the hopes that she holds for the future.

**"Maybe you're right, Clarke. In any case, I'm not going to jinx us by saying that you're wrong and that nothing will ever happen to me. You know as well as I do that an accident can happen at any second. We see them every day, you and I. But they may also not happen at all."**

**"You don't know that-"**

**"Neither do you. We have two choices, Clarke. Either we decide to live in fear. Either we choose to be happy now. I know what choice I want to make..."**

Bellamy is looking at her and suddenly she can no longer take her eyes off the young man's ones. His dark gaze cuts through her and exalts her, and so she knows. She knows she can't go back.

Her voice is tentative and is shaking with emotions when she answers, but her tone is light as she tries to ease the tension with her clumsy humor.

**"It's not really a choice if there's only one, Bellamy."**

Then the young man smiles and answers:

**"Only choice is an oxymo-"**

Clarke suddenly stops him by pressing her lips on his, and Bellamy takes only one second to react, to tie his arms around her waist and hold her more tightly against him, to melt into a long-awaited embrace, to deepen their kiss and so to taste the sweetness of her mouth and the soft velvet of her tongue.

When, after several minutes, they pause, none of them moves away. Their shattered breaths intermingle and Bellamy keeps his forehead against hers until their hearts calm down.

Finally, as they finally open their eyes, the joy and relief of one are reflected in the features of the other. So Clarke wraps her arms around his neck and puts her head on his shoulder while he dips his own in the hollow of her neck. Silent and still, they enjoy for a few moments the moment until:

**"I love you too,"** the young woman whispers.

Bellamy's smile stretches and she senses it on her skin, which is shivering under the effect of his delightful sigh.

**"I won't change my mind, you know,"** she adds. **"I still can't be your doctor..."**

**"Yes, I know. I understand now."**

**"Good."**

**"It's really a shame, though,"** he adds with a smile in his voice. **"You're a damn good doctor, I'm already feeling much better."**

Bellamy jumps and laughs when she digs her fingers between his ribs in retaliation.

**"Ouch..."** he then complains.

Clarke responds with a new kiss since this is apparently the best medicine of all.

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought about it


End file.
